


Néo

by sonofnjobu



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Gen, baby fever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:24:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofnjobu/pseuds/sonofnjobu
Summary: Erik escapes Wakanda and is covering his tracks as he makes his way back to the States.A decommissioned burner phone is filled with messages from you over the last year.He's a father.This is a response to a request from an anonymous user on tumblr.





	Néo

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is Black.  
> If you enjoy my writing, please comment!
> 
> You can find me at www.sonofnjobu.tumblr.com

Néo  
Erik stood patiently and silently in line. Every five minutes or so he could take two steps forward, and finally he reached the assistance desk. He lowered his hood and looked up at the squirrely, European teen in front of him.

“Hey, Luuk.” Erik’s voice was still raspy and his sides hurt when he spoke. He hadn’t given himself time to properly heal after being stabbed four days ago.

Luuk looked surprised to see him. Almost as if he had seen a ghost and began to fumble the papers on his desk.

“Keep cool, man. I just need to pick up what I left with you.”

A little over a year ago, Erik had charged Luuk, a new luggage handler, with storing a single suitcase for him at the Amsterdam Central Station. Erik had paid the young boy €2000 in cash to make sure the bag remained undisturbed until the day he returned.

Erik was honestly amazed Luuk had held down the job. Teenagers were fickle. But he had made the boy feel as though he were part of a top secret operation, and no good agent would ever leave his post.

Luuk handed Erik a small orange key he’d been keeping around his wrist with a stretched out hairband. The tan line left after its removal told Erik that Luuk took his task seriously and had kept it on his person the entire year.

“Good looks,” Erik said hoarsely, and disappeared in to the throng of travelers before Luuk could ask him what exactly he’d been guarding.

Erik removed his suitcase from the locker and shuffled in to a handicap stall. He hastily unzipped the bag and dug around for the pill bottle of antibiotics in the side pocket.

After his cousin T’Challa stabbed Erik, he’d dragged his limp body to the medical wing. His younger cousin Shuri had been hesitant to patch Erik up. To be fair, Erik had attempted to kill her merely hours before. She stemmed the bleeding and dressed the wound, but refused to do any further work on him, against the behest of her brother T’Challa.

It was during a row between the two siblings that Erik was able to slip away and out of the castle. Still enhanced by the heart shaped herb’s powers, he was able to run quickly enough to evade recapture. He crossed Wakanda on foot in to the Democratic Republic of Congo where he made a deal with a freight train conductor to get him as far north as possible.

And now he was here, in the bathroom of another train station in the Netherlands.

He popped two of the pills in to his throat and swallowed them dry. He stripped himself of his soot covered clothing and changed in to the simple jeans and t-shirt he’d packed in advance.

Erik perched on the edge of the toilet seat as he shuffled through the myriad of passports in the bag. He couldn’t exactly travel under the name Erik Stevens any more. No one checked your identity on a train, but to get State side, he would have to get on a plane and go through much more sophisticated security.

He couldn’t risk resurfacing so soon when the Udakus were surely looking for him.

He settled on a passport with the name Kelton Topps from Chicago, Illinois, and tucked the others back in to the depths of a vibranium lined pocket. His hands fell on his old cellphone and a prepaid sim card.

Erik popped the card in to the body of the phone and turned it on. The phone lit up for only a moment, just enough to show him if he had any messages. He didn’t expect any. This was one of his many numbers, and only other operatives should know them.

30 Voice Messages.

Erik tried to play one, but the phone died after “Erik, this is Y/N.”

He slammed the top of his suitcase shut and ran out to the waiting area of the train station. Erik found an outlet and dropped his bag, struggling to plug in the phone.

He waited impatiently for it to charge.

How did you get that number? Why were you leaving him messages? Why would you even want to speak to him after he unceremoniously dumped you over power and the Wakandan throne.

He’d tried not to think about it. Logistically, it wasn’t safe for you to be involved with him while he took over the country. Caring about people is a point of weakness that is so easily exploited. He’d pushed his love for you deep in to the pit of his stomach, and never planned to let it reemerge unless he succeeded. If he didn’t, you were better off without him.

It took everything in Erik not to touch the phone and let it charge fully before he boarded the train to Paris.

“Hey, ba—uh… Erik. It’s me. Y/N. We really need to talk. Call me back. Bye,”

BEEP

“Wow, really? Not only did you break up with me but you left the whole damn city? Your apartment’s empty? That’s fucking whack, Erik.”

BEEP

“I don’t know what kind of soul searching bullshit you’re on right now, but you need to call me back. It’s important.”

BEEP

“This is so immature. I thought we had something. You’ve got me out here looking crazy… calling you and crying all the time. You know what? Nah. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

BEEP

“I just took a bunch of those tests over at Lea’s house. I’m pregnant, Erik. Call me back.”

Erik’s heart skipped. He replayed the message once more. And again before he moved on to the next one.

“I just don’t understand what happened. One moment we’re on track to get married. Next minute you’re gone and I’m single and pregnant. I can’t believe you turned me in to a stereotype, Erik!”

BEEP

“I have my first ultrasound, today. I don’t know if you care but…” there was a shuffling sound and someone in the background asked if you were ready.

DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun

“That’s the heart beat…”

The time gap between each message got longer and longer as if you were giving up on him ever picking up.

“This shit doesn’t even ring.”

BEEP

“It’s a girl. What do you think of the name Kadijah? Or Néo?”

BEEP

This time you were just crying. Erik clenched his jaw as tears ran down his cheek. A trolley cart offering snacks rolled by and Erik turned away, attempting to hide his face in to the window.

“FUCK YOU, ERIK STEVENS! Fuck you! I can’t even put you as the father on the birth certificate cause you aren’t here. You have to sign an acknowledgement. Answer your fucking phone!”

The more bitter your voice got, the harder it was for Erik to hold back his tears.

He hadn’t known.

He thought he’d made the right choice, but instead he was living out his worst fear… leaving his child without a father. He inhaled sharply once and immediately grabbed at his side. The tears burned at the brims of his eyes.

Fuck.

The train couldn’t move fast enough.

Erik played the messages over and over, particularly the one with the heartbeat. He could hardly stand to turn the phone off while he was aboard the plane. When he landed, he hastily turned it back on.

Much to his surprise, it rang.

He pressed the button as quickly as he could and croaked out a dry, “Hello?”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Erik?” you whispered in disbelief.

Erik’s chin quivered a bit and he reached up to still it before he spoke.

“I’m sorry” was all he could muster. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Erik broke, no longer cognizant of the pain in his side. He couldn’t say anything else. He couldn’t even begin to explain to you what had happened. What he had done. Why he had left.

“Where are you?” you said quietly, surprised by your response. You had anticipated being angry. But there was something in Erik’s voice that let you know it wasn’t what you’d thought.

“LAX.”

“Stay there. We’re coming to get you.” You hung up.

Forty-five minutes later, with shaking hands, you unbuckled your daughter from her car seat. At four months she was so stoic and well behaved. You didn’t bother to strap her to your chest, just carried her in your arms through the sliding doors to baggage claim.

It took you a while to find Erik.

He was seated, slumped over and defeated looking on a bench. He was so unlike how he was when he left you. Something had gone seriously wrong.

But his eyes lit up as you approached him. He looked relieved. He stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, like a broken record.

“Not now,” you told him. “I don’t want that to be the first thing you ever say to your daughter.”

You gingerly handed the bundle over to Erik. She was tiny in his massive arms.

“Say hello to Néo.”

“Hello, Néo,” Erik cooed. The smile that stretched across his face made his entire body feel warm. He instinctually began to bounce a little bit at the knees. “I’m your daddy.”

Néo squirmed a bit in her swaddling and her wide little nose scrunched up before her chubby cheeks pulled up in to a smile.

“I’m home.”


End file.
